


Float

by bitterpoison



Category: Super Junior
Genre: Angst, M/M, Pining, maybe if they just talked to each other, so much pining, sorry jungsu
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-11
Updated: 2019-04-11
Packaged: 2020-01-11 22:09:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18433085
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bitterpoison/pseuds/bitterpoison
Summary: After so many years with his members, so many scandals and celebrations and fights and friendships, discomfort is an uncommon phenomenon for Jungsu. But now that Heechul is here, a little too close- staring at him with waves cresting at his waterline, pink lips parted but no sound coming out- he feels a flare going off in his mind.





	Float

**Author's Note:**

> this is the first thing i have written in years so please forgive the everything. this fic could take place anytime really but I started writing it around the time of ss7s.
> 
> i'm new to super junior but completely fascinated by 83line's relationship, i would love to write more about them. 
> 
> pls enjoy~

Jungsu has never liked the sea. Nothing much scares him these days, nerves having been worn down by years in the public eye, but something about the unpredictable nature of the ocean sets him on edge. He finds no comfort in the loud smack of waves crashing to shore, no peace in the smell of salt crisp in the air, scratching at his lungs like a warning. The ocean plays with him; gives the illusion of edging closer, only to drift away once more, fragments of rock and shell laid to rest on a sandy grave like victims of an unseen struggle. It covers 71 per cent of the earth’s surface, yet so little is known about it; the sea’s secrets stretch beyond comprehension. Jungsu likes to control, to understand and empathise, but the sea has no desire for his intervention, his good intentions. So, he treats her with caution, walks along sand and stares, but never ventures into her trap. He lives his life in the same way, tiptoeing around the outside of friendships and relationships, never the centre. Scared to be swallowed.

He envies Heechul, sometimes, a man with the power of a riptide. His opposite in every way, Heechul embraces life like waves engulfing the shoreline; a vast ocean where Jungsu is fine like sand, soft and level. Whilst Jungsu is easily manipulated and moulded to fit the role he is given- _leader, MC, attention seeker_ \- Heechul breaks all barriers and bursts like a dam; flattening all obstacles and claiming the world as his. And people love him for it; the way he bares his teeth and sinks them into life, gripping opportunities and dragging his members with them like stones being pushed upstream. The thrill of knowing Heechul is being aware that he could drown anyone if he wished to, a vortex at his fingertips, yet trusting that he won’t.

_He has always been like this_ , Jungsu thinks, _meeting him is like meeting a maelstrom_. From intimidating trainees just after debut to dominating the variety circuit, Heechul has been consistently unapologetic and untouchable. Open but closed, unafraid but insecure; comfortable in the spotlight but retreating like the tide when it comes to revealing too much, anything too personal. Heechul gives off the illusion of closeness, but Jungsu knows that reaching for him is like grasping at a mirage in the desert. Even now, Jungsu is unsure if he knows the real Heechul; the inky darkness at the bottom of the ocean of his eyes too thick to see through. These days, Jungsu is parched, loneliness wrapped tight like seaweed around his heart; but Heechul’s shallow promises sink into his wounds like salt water. He locks his phone where his finger hovers over Heechul’s number, unsure how it got there.

He kids himself, at first, that he is intrigued, interested. After all, Heechul flows in and out of his life like water, meandering and shapeshifting constantly. Jungsu has never been able to keep up with him; watching Heechul dance or talk or play with the other members makes his chest burn and his breath come out in soft pants, as though he has been chasing the retreating tide. The sting is familiar- Heechul filling his lungs, stealing his air without realising. It has always been this way; Heechul is a universe squeezed into a human, bigger than his body, spilling out into those around him. He is far more than Jungsu knows how to handle, but he likes a challenge, likes the way that Heechul’s approval feels when he finally gets it _right_. Jungsu doesn’t remember quite when things changed, when his longing to understand and appreciate turned into a craving for closeness, but he knows that he is treading thin ice. He half-expects to plunge into freezing waters and feel his heart stop altogether whenever his eyes meet Heechul’s. No matter how hard he tries, Heechul manages to get under his skin, scarring him like a sunburn.

It's frustrating, really, that with every wall that Jungsu has ever built up around himself, Heechul has managed to find a small hole in the structure and leak into his hiding place, folding his limbs around Jungsu’s until he is completely submerged in safe familiarity. It isn’t often that Jungsu feels unable to manage in his position as leader, but Heechul knows without being told. He feels every shift in group dynamic and speaks it aloud, is purposeful and forward-thinking, if aggressive, in his methods of resolution. At some point in their journey together, Heechul decided that he would be a barricade between Jungsu and the world, would stand with him in his every decision. Sometimes, Jungsu wonders if he is the only person who can make Heechul bite his tongue, eyes wide and non-judgemental as he draws out the worries from his reluctant leader. He never says much, but he is there and he’s warm, as though summer has clung to him. He wonders if it was an accumulation of these moments, dripping into his heart through a pin-hole, that made his feelings change; fleeting glances of a Heechul that is only his. He can never know, he panics, not when he is the one person that Jungsu can truly trust. Every friendly touch or inside joke leaves Jungsu shaken, displaced. Something about Heechul has always felt like home to Jungsu, but now he feels as though he is desperately shovelling water out of a sinking boat, stranded.

There are times when Jungsu allows himself the luxury of imagining that Heechul feels the same way; that he can spot a softness sparkling in Heechul’s usually sharp eyes when he looks at him, that his smile is just a fraction brighter when directed at Jungsu. He kicks himself for trying to read into something so completely Heechul, the dichotomy of character that he admires and envies. He’s not like this; he cannot be swept up by something so much bigger than him, for he is the lifeboat for 12 other people to cling onto. He is so scared that he is the ship and Heechul is the iceberg; he has never longed for destruction quite so much. So Jungsu hangs back, holds Heechul at arm’s length even though he knows it would be easier to let the water rise over his head. He keeps paddling, though he is swimming against the tide. He has to be sensitive and stable, solid enough to contain a storm; far back enough to see the horizon. He wakes in the night, sometimes, salty sweat clinging to his forehead. He reaches out, in the dark, but _he’s not there- of course he’s not_. He breaths out a sigh of equal measures disappointment and relief, drinks down the darkness and lets it fill his heart, because of all the things in the world, he cannot want _this_. It’s okay, he thinks, to cry at night, when the moon is strong and solid, holding back the tide from him for just a while. He can carry the burden of his feelings into the daylight, heart scarred from jagged rock fragments scraping at his chest where his feelings swirl.

They’re in the rehearsal space, the members driving Hyukjae up the wall about something or the other. Jungsu doesn’t pay much mind to it, the chaos as much of a routine as their choreography, eyes absently drifting to Heechul’s form in the mirror. His head is thrown back, long hair shining under the studio lights, lips parted to release the siren song of his laughter. He is beautiful, addictive; Jungsu can’t tear his gaze away, even though he should. Their eyes meet in the reflection, Heechul’s smile widening, eyes glistening in Jungsu’s direction. He is breath-taking, impossible, untouchable. And in that moment, it’s suddenly too much for Jungsu, his heartstrings snapping. The picture is distorted, water on glass. He feels so lost, stranded on a desert island with nothing but Heechul in every direction he looks. Panic rises in his chest and his throat is dry and his eyes sting and he needs to get out, so he does. For the first time in years Jungsu is the first to leave the room. Nobody follows, but he’s grateful. Nobody can see him crumble, dropping to his knees in the hallway as he fights back tears.

Jungsu knows that it has gone too far now, that before anything else he is a leader, a representative that others look up to. He cannot let this affect his work, his passion. So, he does the only thing he can think to do; pretends that Heechul doesn’t exist. As much as he can in his position, anyway. He straps a lifejacket to his back every time he walks into rehearsals, knowing that if he can keep his head above water and pointed to the horizon that he cannot drown. He digs a hole in the sand for his heart and buries it, praying that it’s enough. He dances harder, blood thrumming in his veins and heart pounding in his ears loud enough to block out the sound of Heechul’s voice. Every time he gets the urge to look, to touch, he asks to go again. By the end of the week, his shoulder is strapped up and his limbs ache, but he feels strong. He cannot let his feelings get the best of him, and if anyone has noticed that he is less responsive than usual to Heechul’s quick remarks, that his laughter is shallow and uninterested, they have stayed uncharacteristically quiet about it. Hyukjae asks if they are going out to eat after rehearsal, and when Heechul says yes, Jungsu murmurs an excuse about promising he’d call his sister tonight, eyes downcast. Only when he’s the sole body left in the practice room does he release the breath he’s been holding in, leaning his forehead against the cool glass of the mirror, face to face with his own worst enemy.

It’s been a lot for them all recently, Jungsu knows, rehearsing for both their encore concerts and an upcoming comeback with members missing and in the military. They’re patchwork, a mosaic, broken pieces thrown together in an attempt to make something beautiful. It’s frustrating, particularly when they are not as young or well-practiced as they used to be. Usually, Jungsu lets the others take the parts of him that they need, not minding if they return them broken; what’s most important is that they are together, he can grieve his losses in private. A flash of guilt chills him when he realises that he is being selfish, closing himself off when he is supposed to gather everyone together, throwing himself out like a life ring to keep everyone afloat. It’s just…he’s so _tired_ , swimming strokes becoming weaker when there is no salvation in sight. His heart doesn’t know when to shut up, caught up in rapids that circle endlessly, bringing him back to _want, need_ every time he sees Heechul. Snapping himself out of it and focusing on something else, _anything else_ , becomes harder every day. He’s drawn to him, eyes drinking him down like salt water, knowing that the dehydration will end his life but not caring. He bites his lip, tastes metal, and asks Donghae to turn the music up louder, as though his own recorded voice could drown out the one in his head.

Jungsu can see it in Heechul’s face that his injured leg has been acting up recently, but he swallows his concerns, feels them sharp sliding down his throat, guilt turning his stomach. He’s pushing them all too hard, he knows it, even Hyukjae is surprised at his sudden dedication to perfecting every small movement in their choreography. But only Jungsu knows that if he stops paddling then he will be pulled under- pretty, milky white fingers wrapped around his ankles. He’s better here, insisting they push on, than at the bottom of the ocean. If they hadn’t known each other for so long, maybe he could pretend not to notice the furrow in Heechul’s brow, the way he tugs on his hair in impatience, the tension in his shoulders even when he takes a break. The need in Jungsu to _fix, make it right_ , urges him to say something, but he doesn’t trust his mouth to stay on script. His heart is full, heavy like a balloon filled with water, ready to burst at any moment. He wishes more than anything that he could untangle himself from Heechul, turn his senses down, but Heechul is overstimulation characterised.

He can practically feel the frustration on Heechul’s breath when they start up again; it’s no surprise to him when he snaps at Hyukjae out of nowhere, trying to help correct his positioning in the choreography. Nowadays, it’s rare that Heechul lets his anger get the best of him, years of professionalism having worn down his sharp edges, and Jungsu can’t help but feel responsible for his outburst. When Heechul is angry, he is a tsunami. Whatever earthquake it is that shakes him causes his waves rise up to unimaginable heights, ready to reap destruction at the nearest target. Jungsu has made it his mission over the years to always be the closest one, to take the damage. On reflex he ushers the others out of the room, cursing himself under his breath for not being stronger, not running when he had the chance. He shouldn’t be alone with Heechul, but Jungsu cannot just walk away from a sinking ship, even when he knows that the water is coming in far quicker than he can throw it out. He is not easily angered, lets the words wash over him and absorbs none of them, waits until the ocean is calm again. He hates how beautiful Heechul looks even now, face flushed red and gesturing wildly, hands running through soft hair. If Jungsu was brave, he would reach out and grip Heechul’s wrists in his hands, swallow his ranting with his lips, taste the bitterness of his words on his tongue. But Jungsu isn’t brave, so he smiles his leader smile, _umms_ and _ahhs_ in all the right places and prays that Heechul can’t see the disgusting adoration in his eyes.

When it’s over, Heechul leans on him like he is spent, head buried in Jungsu’s shoulder. Explosions echo in the air around them and Jungsu can feel his arms shake as he wraps them around Heechul, sparks flying from his fingertips. Heechul doesn’t need him, doesn’t need anybody, but Jungsu thinks this might be the closest that he’ll ever get. Only Jungsu can see him like this, small and vulnerable and regretful; it makes him ache and glow in equal measure, being the one to steer Heechul to clearer waters. It will never be enough- even like this, Jungsu can feel his resolve crack under the weight of wanting more. Eyes closed, he grips a little too tight for a little too long, breathes in the smell of Heechul’s hair, vows to himself to never let himself do this again. He can feel Heechul’s eyes on him for the rest of their practice, questioning.

He tosses and turns all night, vague dreams of his members calling out for him startling him awake. He can’t respond; his body has worn away, lying still at the bottom of the ocean. Heechul is eating away at his resolve, eroding him until he is stripped to bleach white bone. He wakes in the morning to five missed calls from Hyukjae, he’s late. When he finally bursts through the door of the practice room, everyone is still. Heechul is singing, his voice swelling like a perfect storm, dipping and curving with playfulness and purpose. He’s messing around as usual, movements exaggerated, but Jungsu is hypnotised by the look in his eyes. Open, raw, asking for approval in a way that his mouth never could. He stumbles, unable to stop himself from letting out a gasp as Heechul turns firmly to look at him, eyes raking over his face- explorative, daring. His water bottle rolls across the floor and stops at Heechul’s feet, but neither of them reaches for it as the song ends. Heechul doesn’t look away and Jungsu is frozen, face burning. There’s a gushing in his ears as though he’s holding a shell up to them, the sound of his pulse racing eerily similar to the tide flooding in. He is so, so thankful when Ryeowook makes a sarcastic comment about his belatedness, his members’ laughter breaking his trance. At the end of the day, Hyukjae asks him to stay behind to go over what he missed, but he refuses, sensing the question in his tone. Subtlety is not a strong suit of his members.

_Were you planning on telling anyone_ , Hyukjae messages him that night, _that you are in love with Kim Heechul?_ Jungsu deletes it without replying, but he makes sure to show up to rehearsal early from then on, avoiding Hyukjae’s prying eyes and Heechul’s small frowns. He can feel the water rising, pushing into his mouth when he speaks and stinging his throat.

When the weekend of their encore concerts rolls around, he is more relieved than excited. Jungsu has a thousand other obligations- most of which involve Heechul in one way or another- but his chest feels lighter at the thought of a break from trying to hold back the hurricane of his feelings. He needs to get away from Heechul, from soft skin and pink lips and a laugh that could drown angels. Maybe once he has some distance, some perspective, the ocean may turn out to be a puddle after all. Maybe one day, he and Heechul could laugh about this. _You must have been really lonely_ , Heechul would snicker, _to have thought you were in love with me of all people_. Two days, if he can just wait two days, maybe he can reach dry land. He takes a fistful of hope and runs out onstage with it in his pocket, a genuine smile washing over his face for the first time in weeks.

Maybe he shouldn’t be surprised any more, by the way that performing energises him, fills his body with electricity and makes his heart soar. He stares out at a blue ocean of lights, and for the first time in a while, he doesn’t feel afraid. He is loved, he is whole. He soaks up every reaction of the crowd, teases and plays with such freedom that he almost doesn’t recognise himself, until he nearly smacks right into Heechul making his way downstage. He’s shining, as always, a smile wide on his face and make-up highlighting all of his best features. He looks soft, gentle like waves caressing the shore, happy. And Jungsu wants him, so badly. Jungsu thinks that he can feel the same longing pouring from Heechul when he looks out into a crowd that roars and rises up like a tidal wave, a love that washes over him but never stays after dark. _Everyone wants to be loved_ , Jungsu thinks, _but Heechul wants to be known_.

And, if Jungsu didn’t know Heechul by now he would be a complete idiot, but there’s so much more of him to explore, to learn and map out and Jungsu needs all of it. He needs to see Heechul first thing in the morning with blurry, half-lidded eyes, sat at his kitchen island with his breakfast spoon in one hand and Jungsu’s fingers clasped in the other. He needs to know what it’s like to wake from one of his nightmares and have Heechul there, soft snores filling the room. He needs to have Heechul on top of him, eyes locked to his as he finally, _finally_ makes Jungsu his. There is so much that he needs from Heechul, so much intimacy that he just cannot give. He notices the duality in Heechul’s determination, the softness in his eyes when he rolls them at Jungsu, the catch in his throat when he jokes about getting married. He knows what Heechul needs, and a member with feelings for him is the last thing on that list.

He goes to run to his next position- he makes it his mission each concert to cover every square inch of the stage, to make sure that the fans know that he sees them and he’s grateful- but Heechul hooks a hand around his wrist and drags him back, all drama. Fans scream at their contact and Jungsu feels sick to his stomach, burning at the contact. It’s all a game to Heechul, to get a reaction. Jungsu tears his wrist away, forcing laughter, but Heechul grabs him again, pulls him into a hug and he is trapped. Lips touch the shell of his ear, sending a jolt of electricity down his spine. _You’ve been avoiding me_ , Heechul says, but it’s not accusatory. He’s lucky that Heechul is holding onto him so tightly, because he’s scared that he’d fall if left to stand alone, knees weak. It’s not fair for him to do this, not here, not when he has no choice but to play into the interaction. Not when the furthest away Heechul will be for the next couple of hours is the other side of the stage, the closet all up in his face like this. He shakes his head, eyes swimming. Heechul moves his hands up to his face, stroking a thumb over where his teeth are biting down into his bottom lip. He is too gentle, too careful, too perfect. Jungsu wants to scream, he doesn’t understand what he’s done that’s so bad for the universe to punish him like this, dangling everything he wants in front of him in the cruellest way. Heechul’s looking at him with eyes as wide as the moon, damp foreheads pressed together. He’s smiling, a wicked smile, and Jungsu takes the moment it’s his chance to sing to bolt to the opposite end of the stage.

_You did well today_ , Heechul murmurs into Jungsu’s ear as they leave the stage. Jungsu can feel the heaviness of Heechul’s arm slung across his shoulders, the hairs on the back of his neck standing up at the praise. It’s nothing, a small compliment, but Jungsu feels sick to his stomach. He’s hyper-aware, now, half-drowned in Heechul’s words, and now more than ever he craves the day that Heechul ends it all, says _I don’t love you_ , because then at least Jungsu could give in to the desire to swim towards the riptide. Jungsu’s head spins as though he’s caught in a whirlpool; it’s taken him fifteen years to wake up, his body’s imprint on the sandy bed smoothed over by the sea. They meet like sand and sea, waves lapping up gently to shore or crashing, causing destruction. He’s on his own now, Heechul a wall between him and the world. An uncharacteristic flash of anger sparks up in his chest, burning on his tongue as he spits out the words _don’t fucking do that to me again_. He’s angry that all of his efforts have come down to this, to the person he cares about the most toying with his heart like a beachball. He shrugs off Heechul’s arm and leaves without showering, curled up into a ball in the back seat of the car that whisks him away from his members.

_Hyung_ , Donghae rushes over when Jungsu shows up to the run-through the next morning, _are you okay?_ It takes all that Jungsu has left in him to wrap his arms around the younger man, clinging to him like a piece of driftwood. He squeezes his eyes shut, thinking of how insignificant his battered heart bleeding is when it spills into an ocean. Donghae smiles at him, hopeful, a lighthouse throwing beams out at him to bring him back. Jungsu wishes that he could be blinded by the lights, could forget everything but his members and their fans and their concert like a good leader. Heechul is sat on the staging, arms folded and eyes sharp, and Jungsu does his best to smile over at him. His heart flutters involuntarily when he receives a quirk of Heechul’s lips back. He pats Donghae on the back, thankful, swallowing the salt water swelling in his throat.

He can’t stop the tears from falling during their final ment; his heart has always been soft, easily touched by rows of twinkling lights taking the edge off the darkness that casts shadows on his life. He is alone, stranded with his feelings, but looking up and seeing blue stars brings him a small comfort. He glances down the line of his members, none of them truly listening to him, playing amongst themselves, and knows that he cannot do this anymore. He must be stronger, better, for they deserve so much more. Jungsu was never born to be in this position, spent years of his life building himself up like a sandcastle, mowed down by tides of rejection again and again, but at last he can be proud of the person that he has become. It is so easy for him to love, heart still naïve even when half drowned. He reaches out for Heechul, winds his fingers around a delicate wrist and counts his heart beats. He finds some comfort in knowing that this is it, that things will never be the same as they once were. He knows that even if he has to battle with himself every day, to look Poseidon in the eye and declare war, that it will be worth it to keep his home afloat. His members, his flesh and blood, must be protected from all threats to their existence, including himself. For the first time, Jungsu looks over at Heechul and runs towards the sea, accepting that his feet may never touch dry land again. He tugs him a little closer, his only friend, heart racing as Heechul finally intertwines their fingers. _I love you_ , he finally admits, gazing out into the crowd and pretending it’s for them.

It’s after a week of welcome silence that Heechul knocks on Jungsu’s apartment door, polite despite knowing his key-code. Jungsu knew that this day was coming, anticipating his rejection like a prisoner awaiting execution; he’s almost looking forward to drowning, to suffocating his sandy heart and building it up from nothing. At least then, the pain will have a source outside of Jungsu’s own mind; will be valid and understandable and something he stands a chance fighting against. He has become sick of battling ghosts, of unseen siren voices whispering to him at night. When Heechul finally breaks his heart, he will be well-prepared. If there’s one thing that Jungsu knows how to do, it’s grieving.

_Hyung_ , Heechul says, and Jungsu has to stop himself from snorting at the uncharacteristic formality. He almost laughs, but Heechul’s brow his furrowed and his eyes are serious and his mouth is set in a firm line, so he ushers him inside. Jungsu’s heart is pounding, bottom lip bitten and abused, with Heechul’s eyes on him, unwavering. It isn’t often that Heechul seeks Jungsu out for _anything_ ; his spirit is strong as a storm, his fear of weakness both his asset and his downfall. Sincerity scares him, and Jungsu doesn’t know how to be anything else. His words cast shadows around the room, greetings spilling out like moonbeams; lights thrown out to sea in hopes of controlling _something_. His heart is beating a little too fast as Heechul sits beside him on the sofa, a position that he has been in so many times before, but tonight it is different. Heechul is quiet, contemplative, eyes sparkling like sunlight dancing across the surface of the ocean when they meet Jungsu’s. When he touches him, a hand on his knee, Jungsu tenses; there’s sand under his fingernails. He imagines Heechul scrabbling at the shoreline, desperate. He imagines the waves cascading over his head, a halo of hair forming as he gets tossed and turned by the current; laughing as he meets his equal. He is overwhelmed by the power that Heechul holds over him, eyes scanning the room for any kind of life-ring, anything to cling onto.

Heechul’s grip on him tightens slightly, a shaky sigh slipping past his lips. Jungsu can feel the sofa floating, rocking back and forth with the power of the sea. He’s dizzy, seasick, watching the world sway in front of him. Heechul always used to be the one to ground him, to sweep him up and push him to shore, but his face is blurry and his hair is wet, the water up to his chin. _Hyung…Jungsu-ah_ , Heechul tries again, and Jungsu does his best to meet his eyes. Heechul isn’t good at this, isn’t suited to seriousness and earnestness and emotion, to tension too thick to swim through. There’s a vague panic in his eyes, pupils blown wide and a thin sheen of tears giving away his unease. After so many years with his members, so many scandals and celebrations and fights and friendships, discomfort is an uncommon phenomenon for Jungsu. But now that Heechul is here, a little too close- staring at him with waves cresting at his waterline, pink lips parted but no sound coming out- he feels a flare going off in his mind. A flash of determination crosses Heechul’s tense features, and before Jungsu has thought about how best to escape, soft lips are pressed against his, fingernails digging into his thigh.

Jungsu chokes, eyes snapping open. But Heechul doesn’t stop, tilts his head for a more comfortable angle, eyelashes fluttering against high cheekbones. Jungsu can feel his lungs fill, breath being stolen as his runaway heart ventures far deeper than it ever has before. He knows that water and electricity shouldn’t mix, but he can feel sparks igniting in his chest, ricocheting around his body and out through his fingertips, scrunched up in the back of Heechul’s shirt. There’s salt water running down his cheeks, he can taste it, parched lips finally satiated. Heechul is shaking, hands cupping Jungsu’s face. His mouth is warm and wet and if Jungsu could choose to drown in this moment, he would, knowing that when he opens his eyes, the world will have come crashing down around him. Jungsu cannot dive into this, cannot let Heechul in just to feel him pull back again like the tide. Panic bubbles in his chest, bursting from his body. Heechul will never love him on land.

He pulls away, whispers _I’m sorry, I don’t_ , but Heechul scoffs. _You’re lying_ , he accuses, eyebrows drawn together, lips red and swollen. Jungsu wants to scream, to call for somebody, _anybody_ to drag him out of the riptide he has been caught in, but it’s too late now. He does the only thing he can think of, throws his lifejacket aside and kisses Heechul again, fingers tangled in soft hair. His head spins, colours swirling behind his eyelids like his life is flashing before him. Heechul’s breath is hot and heavy as their tongues intertwine, soft groans pulled from the back of his throat. Jungsu is suffocating, but the burning in his chest is comforting somehow; he knows that this will kill him, but at least he can die at the hands of an angel. _I love you, I love you, I love you_ he whimpers into Heechul’s mouth, hands clawing at his chest as though he could grip onto a tidal wave. Heechul tastes of salt and seafoam, and Jungsu drinks him down like he is his only salvation.

_I know_ , Heechul says when they finally part, gasping for air, _I’ve known for a while…just give me some time to catch up?_ It’s a question, tinged with hope. Jungsu gapes at him, cheeks burning, because the last thing he expected was _this_ \- Heechul being faced with the ocean that Jungsu has been holding back for so long and being unafraid. He grips onto one of Heechul’s hands with both of his own, realises that even the sea is nothing to the universe, to someone made of stardust. It hits him then, like a tidal wave, that even when Heechul has been away, he always comes back here, to Jungsu. That maybe, just _maybe_ , Jungsu is bigger than a rock caught up in the tide; maybe he is the moon. Because him and Heechul, they push and pull, but always return to equilibrium- to the two of them, whispering secrets in a language that only they understand. Heechul grins at him- a goofy, gummy smile that has Jungsu laughing for the first time in months, curling his toes in warm sand. Heechul _wants_ this, to step out into the shallows together and look to the horizon, trusting that they will reach their destination. He looks at Heechul, really looks at him for the first time in a long time and feels at peace, heart bursting like a bubble and the world filling with colour. Jungsu is shipwrecked, marooned, half-drowned, but he has never felt happier.

**Author's Note:**

> i am truly terrible at writing happy endings i'm sorry


End file.
